Ghina’s Story: When Fleeing Became a Farewell

On 13 July 2025, Fadia Hamed fled her village of Khalkhalah in the countryside of As Suwayda, accompanied by her daughter, Ghina, and their family. They were fleeing the treacherous gunfire raining down on the village from the west and the north. They reached the city of Shahba at 3:00 AM, and the following day they moved to As Suwayda city, where six families had to share a single apartment.

On the morning of Tuesday, 15 July the bombardment began. The women were told to stay inside the religious assembly hall (Al-Majles) for their protection. They spent the entire grueling day and night there, in total darkness for fear of airstrikes. By Wednesday morning, the supervisors arrived with two vans to evacuate the women. There was not enough fuel, nor were there enough vehicles to accommodate everyone, so the women were told to leave their bags behind. Before Ghina stepped into the van, she took her mother’s hand and said,

“Mom, my phone is in your bag. I unlocked it, enlarged the font, and changed the language to Arabic for you, just in case you need it.”

To this day, Fadia does not know what prompted her daughter to do that.

Ghina sat on her mother’s lap near the driver. They took the old al-Sahwah road, but halfway through, they spotted a black taxi with an armed man inside. The driver quickly turned around to change routes, but sniper fire erupted from all directions. Ghina was struck in the neck and martyred instantly. She leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder, drew her final breath, and closed her eyes for the last time, all on her own.

Fadia tried calling her husband, only to learn he was trapped inside the hospital. She then called her brother, Khaled, and told him what had happened. He replied,

“I will come to you, even if I have to crawl.”

She pleaded,

“Khaled, do not come. She is gone, and I cannot bear another loss.”

About an hour later, Khaled was killed in a drone strike while trying to reach and protect the women.

Around 40 women sought refuge in a house near the attack site. Dead bodies littered the road; there were nine martyrs and 16 wounded. Fadia refused to leave Ghina behind on the ground, crying out,

“I will not go! I will not leave her, even if they kill me.”

But as sniper fire intensified, they were forced to drop to the ground. Once inside the house, Fadia, being a nurse, began treating the wounded, tearing fabric into makeshift bandages to staunch the bleeding. She recalls,

“In those moments, I forgot everything. My only concern was saving the wounded.”

Once she finished, she went back out under the shelling to retrieve Ghina.

“I wished I could have died with her,” Fadia says.

She cleared the shattered glass from the van, gently lifted Ghina inside, washed her face, combed her hair, and covered her. They waited until 7:30 AM, when local factions finally arrived and rescued them.

Ghina Mazen Hilal, born on 8 July 2011, was on the threshold of her 14th birthday when she passed away. She was bright, gentle, and wise beyond her years. Her mother had enrolled her in kindergarten at just two years and five months old. Ghina played the piano and was learning the violin, painting, and English. She was always an honor student and was scheduled to enter the ninth grade this year. When they fled the village, her mother did not take the violin. When they returned, they found it smashed; the attackers had broken it, too.

This narrative is based solely on the personal testimony of Mrs. Fadia Hamed, the mother of Ghina Mazen Hilal.